Time Flies
by Violintide
Summary: In which Ryoma has a book report due for class, and Tezuka gives some unexpected assistance.


Time Flies  
  
by Jennifer M. peropero@inorbit.com  
  
A Prince of Tennis story. Written for the 11/5/03 temps_mort challenge (deadlines).  
  
Notes: no beta.. as usual. XD The challenge time limit was a mere 45 minutes, so forgive any awkward phrasings. ^^;  
  
Status: complete.  
  
---  
  
"I love deadlines. I love the whooshing sound they make as they go by." - Scott Adams  
  
---  
  
The hardest part about English homework, Ryoma decided, was constraining himself to only sounding marginally more intelligent than his classmates. It was easier that way, otherwise he had people like Horio coming up to him after class, asking for help with assignments or grammar, or people like Tomoko, who found great pleasure in advertising his abilities to the world as though it was remarkable that someone who had lived in another country for several years could speak the language. Usually he found the class to be something of a blessing, boring though it was to sit through every day. The work was so pitifully easy that he usually managed to finish the worksheets before the end of the class they were assigned during, saving him the hour or more the rest of his class needed for them. It would have been nice to be exempt from the class completely, but the Japanese school system wasn't big on allowances of that sort. Ah well. It was mildly amusing to watch Momoshiro struggle with his homework after tennis practices, wheedling and begging for assistance or answers.  
  
His teacher realized that the class was basically a joke for someone with Ryoma's level of fluency, and to the man's credit, he did try to make things marginally more challenging. While his classmates were valiantly attempting to write 3-paragraph descriptions of their favorite pop singers and athletes by the end of the week, Ryoma was instructed to either write 3 pages on the subject or do a brief book report instead. While he could have easily pulled enough information on John McEnroe or the like off of the internet (not that McEnroe was perhaps the best choice, unless introducing his classmates to English profanity was the intention), the idea of writing out three entire pages of celebrity-worship wasn't tremendously appealing.  
  
The therefore-inevitable book report had led Ryoma to realize that he hadn't brought any books worth writing about with him from New York, and the school library was sadly lacking anything worth borrowing. (Not surprising, considering that the level of English proficiency even the most studious junior high schooler could normally be expected to reach wasn't such that the average English novel could be easily comprehended.) Which was why he was currently turning down Kikumaru's rare offer to treat his kouhai to an after-practice snack at Mos Burger. The ghostly specter of onion rings haunted him as he headed for the bus stop, the cold reality that he was turning down free food (and not just *any* food, but Mos Burger onion rings. He could already hear Momo-sempai convincing Kikumaru and Kawamura to trade theirs for his fries, onion rings that would rightfully have been his had he been there to rescue them from Momoshiro's unappreciative grasp.. thinking about it was making it worse.) in order to go shopping for a book that he had no interest in reading anyway.  
  
(Ryoma briefly wondered whether the English translation of "Doubles for Beginners" could count as literature. The expression on his teacher's face in his imagination was enough to convince him that the odds were not in his favor.)  
  
He reached the bus stop just in time to see the vehicle round the corner, making him wince as he looked at the schedule to see that it would be nearly 20 minutes until the next arrival. Even under threat of Inui's juice he couldn't run fast enough to make it to the next stop in time to get aboard. Resigning himself to the wait, he stretched out on the empty bench, his cap pulled low over his eyes as he leaned against his racquet bag, drifting off into a half-awake state as he considered whether it was worth the effort to cross the street to the vending machine for a can of soda.  
  
An unexpected shadow loomed over him, blocking the sun enough that he glanced up to view its source. Standing in front of him, tennis bag slung over his shoulder, was Tezuka, watching Ryoma with his usual non- expression.  
  
"Buchou," he acknowledged.  
  
"Echizen."  
  
The silence continued for a few moments longer, until Ryoma ventured to ask "Do you take the bus home?"  
  
"Un. I live in Moriyama."  
  
Ryoma looked up. "Moriyama? Isn't that near the end of the train line?"  
  
Tezuka nodded. "My grandfather enjoys gardening, and so he built his house where he would have enough space."  
  
True enough; space was at a premium in Tokyo, more so than most places in the world. Ryoma still remembered his astonishment at seeing actual grass on the campus of Seishun Gakuen - having enough open space to be able to have lawns was a subtly displayed sign of financial security.  
  
"You normally bike to school," Tezuka stated, making Ryoma wonder how it was possible for anyone to sound so serious when engaging in small talk. He smirked slightly as he answered.  
  
"Yeah. Have to go downtown today, though." Neither of them was the type to divulge information in more than small doses, unless pried at with repeated questions. Recalling his captain's earlier voluntarily shared information about his home, Ryoma decided to expound. "I have to do a book report for English, but I don't have anything at home I can use, and the school library is hopeless."  
  
Nodding, Tezuka frowned slightly. "You don't like to read?"  
  
Ryoma shrugged. "I don't mind reading, but I didn't bring anything with me from the States, and I haven't really bought any books since I got here."  
  
"English books are expensive to buy. It's much cheaper to buy them in bulk from America and have them shipped here, but if you only want one book, you might be able to find something reasonable at the department store."  
  
"Do you buy English books, buchou?"  
  
"I find it easier to learn vocabulary in the context of a story." After another moment he added, "I've collected a fair number of books. If you're looking for something to read, you can borrow one of them."  
  
Tezuka's expression was serious, and the offer seemed sincerely made. Ryoma supposed that if the third-year wasn't interesting in loaning something, he wouldn't have made the offer at all. "It's due in less than a week, so I need something I can read in a few days."  
  
The captain glanced at him, a thoughtful look on his face. "You lived in New York?" At Ryoma's nod of confirmation, Tezuka allowed his racquet bag to slide from his shoulder, setting it down on the bench next to the younger boy. "Hmm."  
  
Unzipping the main section, he pulled out his leather school-issued satchel, rifling through the various textbooks and neatly arranged folders of assignments until he found what he was looking for. Removing a bookmark from the middle, he handed a fairly slim novel to Ryoma.  
  
"You might enjoy this. It takes place in New York several decades ago. It's a murder mystery."  
  
"Hail to the Chief: An 87th Precinct Novel by Ed McBain?" Ryoma looked up, curious.  
  
To his surprise, Tezuka looked the slightest bit uncomfortable.  
  
"Hmm. You enjoy detective stories?" How odd. It wasn't a genre that he would normally think to associate with Tezuka, but maybe it wasn't so odd. Detective stories usually involved a great deal of logic and were short on flowery prose, which he could see appealing to Tezuka's analytical side.  
  
"Sometimes.. do you want to borrow it?"  
  
Ryoma was enjoying Tezuka's discomfort at having revealed something personal about himself. He flipped through the pages quickly, noting that at about 150 pages, he could probably finish it with plenty of time left to write the report. The thought of examining something that the stoic third- year enjoyed was also intriguing.  
  
Something was bothering him, though. "You had a bookmark in it.. are you still reading it? I don't want to take it if you're-"  
  
"I've read it several times, actually. You can take it for as long as you need it."  
  
Not just any book, then, but one of Tezuka's favorites.  
  
"If you're sure.. thanks."  
  
As he closed the leather bag inside his practice bag once more, the sun glinted brightly off of the lens of Tezuka's glasses, obscuring his face from Ryoma's view. "Don't mention it."  
  
Ryoma put the book inside one of his bag's pockets, making sure not to let anything bend the corners. "Well then.. I guess I don't need to take the bus after all. I'll be going ahead.."  
  
The captain nodded, stepping aside as Ryoma stood up and slid the bag over his shoulder. "Thanks again."  
  
Walking away, Ryoma thought about what he had been given. Flipping through the pages, he had noticed that the book wasn't written in the style of English that was studied in junior high.. just how fluent *was* Tezuka, anyway?  
  
Shaking his head, he headed for the bike parking lot. Six more days to finish the book and write the paper.  
  
If it was a good story, maybe Tezuka could recommend something else next.. 


End file.
